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Monday, December 31, 2007

 

Warwick

Warwick was known as "The Kingmaker" because he pretty much was able to put whomever he wanted on the throne back in the day. For a while at least. Oddly, he straddled the fence during the War of the Roses, and you see where that got him. He had one daughter marry a York, and one a Lancaster. No dummy, he. He built a castle, which is now open to the public for a fee. A lot of English nobility lets the public tour the place for a fee. Got to pay the rent somehow.

Warwick has several attractions. There was a recreated Victorian holiday party in one section, a sound and light show about preparing to unseat a king Warwick didn't like (Warwick lost) in another; something that was attractive enough to have a long line which we didn't stand in as it was raining furiously, and at the time we were there a Victorian Steam Carnival. The calliope played Christmas tunes, including John Lennon's Christmas Song. I think Mr. Lennon would have been amused.


But on with the show. Here is a view of Warwick castle form outside the front portcullis. Like all Medieval castles, this one used no glass in the windows. It has narrow slits in places for archers to shoot out of. It seems like it would have been rather drafty and damp, but I imagine that in its time it was quite the luxurious retreat for old Warwick.




Among other things, no castle of this type would be complete without things called garderobes. Without me writing exactly what a garderobe was for, can you figure it out by looking at this picture of a handsome man sitting upon one?




There was a furious cold damp draft coming out of that thing, I can tell you. Okay, a garderobe, generically, was a private chamber. Quite private. And that cold draft would be a real issue for most of us.




The place was a good one to tour. The medieval portions were fascinating, and the Victorian party was as well. Apparently Winston Churchill was a frequent guest before he went into politics (and one assumes after) as were a number of prominent citizens of the late nineteenth century. It was pretty elegant, as witness this festive meal laid out in the old great hall.

There are castles all over the country that one can tour. This is rated as one of the better tours, and I can see why. We also rode a Victorian racing horse carousel, which must have been one heck of a thrill in the eighteen-ninties.

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Oddities


England, like every land, has some things that to someone not from that land seem rather odd, to say the least. Let's look at a few.



The title link, should you care to click it, will take you to a site where you can study up on the meanings of British road signs. I had to interpret those signs to drive around, and I commend it to any American wanting to see how divided our two countries are by our common language. Some linguistic bits:

Do you know what a crawler lane is?


What does a sign to 'Give Way' look like?


And, of course, how do you interpret this?


Humped Zebras? What the heck? Can you figure it out? Believe it or not, this is a pretty straightforward sign, if you know English. I learned some English while I was in England. For instance, crawler lane is not a suburban street. If you want to know what it is, then use that Internet you're connected to. I will say that you've no doubt seen a few.



That, of course, is not the only odd road sign we saw. For example, from just outside a village on the way to the races at Towcester comes this one:



No problem knowing what that means. We could have the same sign in, oh Wisconsin for example, and nobody would have trouble with it. The thing is, even in Wisconsin, I don't think that enough badgers cross the highway to merit a special warning sign. Those English badgers must be a tough bunch, I guess.




An English superstition revolves around the Ravens at the Tower of London. A Raven, if you don't know, is a crow old enough to develop a large body and an attitude to match. I'm not kidding, a raven really is a crow. These particular ravens are said to be good omens for the Tower, and it is said that so long as they remain in the Tower England shall not fall. They were there, I'm sure, during the Battle of Britain during World War Two. Here's one taking a break from chowing down on some small animal it had caught.


The oddest thing about England, though, is that other than sitting to the right while driving, and driving left, and things like the ones on this post, it's pretty much dead-on normal to an American. Some of the chain stores have different names, like the grocery chain Tesco, but Tesco has an outlet in Las Vegas now, so that's not even odd any more. And some of them have names like McDonalds, or even Woolworths as in Stratford. I really got the idea that America is the child of England, and no doubt about it.
I promised something about roundabouts. In Washington DC they call them Traffic Circles. Dupont Circle is one. In England, and the Western US, they call them roundabouts. Picadilly Circus is one. Not one you'd care to drive through, probably, but it is a roundabout. A roundabout is a circular road instead of an intersection, which can have two, three, four, five, even more roads or steets connecting to its circumference. The signage is inconsistent in the Midlands, and all that turning literally made my arms and shoulders tired. In some neighborhoods in Littleton Colorado they are putting in roundabouts to slow the traffic (and they do work for that.) In the part of Las Vegas founded by Howard Hughes, called Summerlin, they use them as intersections (junctions to a Brit.) For the record, I hate 'em.

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Shakespeare


Well, if you've ever visited here in the past, you know that I write. Well, heck, I'm writing as I write this, aren't I? Confusing language usage aside, Tami and I both wanted to pay homage to the greatest writer in the history of the English language. Shakespeare was born in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Avon is the river that runs through the town. It's a quaint town, and was also decorated for Christmas. But England is crawling with quaint towns. There is only one birthplace of Shakespeare, and here it is:



Yes, that is just a house on a street. It's tempting to think of it as a modern "fake Tudor" building, but it's actually plain old Tudor. Henry VIII was king when the place was built. William's father was John Shakespeare, who bought the property after marrying into an influential family. Young Will must have had a pretty good childhood, growing up in a nice house right on the High Street. Some of the other buildings are also from the same period, so it's easy to imagine young Will getting a taste for adventure while messing about the town. He got in trouble once, for making a muck pile in the street. Muck is horse manure in this case. Kids, huh? The place was a B&B (Inn) for a while, but it's been a tourist attraction for centuries. Mark Twain paid a visit, so I feel that I'm in good company.

Shakespeare himself owned the house after his father died. He was a man of some means, and a deacon of the church. Which is why you'll find his grave inside Holy Trinity Church in Stratford. Here's a picture:

You can see a picture of the insription that you can read here. For the record, in case you have trouble with the plaque, the inscription reads as follows:

Good Friend, for Jesus’ sake forbear
To dig the dust enclosed here:
Blessed be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones.

I doubt not that, my having paid homage, my writing will never again fail to inspire and entertain.

And, just because I can include it, here's a picture of the street on which Will Shakespeare grew up as it appears today:

Stratford is still a real, living town, with the usual things you'd find there, overlaid, of course, with a thick layer of tourist trap shops and facilities.

Oh, and very few roundabouts. Nice, that.

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Ticket Update

Made a mistake on that parking ticket. We were tired and not really focused when we found it. In truth, it was sixty pounds, and I just paid it online. The link to the City of Westminster site is in the title of this blog, by the way. Nice town. Bit pricey.

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Nottingham

If you haven't heard of Nottingham, I wonder where you've been living. Maybe you're not English or a cultural descendant of someone who was, but anyone in America or the Commonwealth, not to mention the UK, knows Nottingham is where Robin Hood kept rescuing Maid Marian from the vile Sheriff of Nottingham. Well, long story short, we had to go see that place, right? So here's the scoop.

First, there's Robin himself, in bronze form, right behind Tami and myself. The wall behind him is a part of Nottingham Castle, which has nothing whatever to do with the famous outlaw. Robin Hood, for those who don't know, is said to have robbed from the rich and given to the poor. They say the same about Pretty Boy Floyd of Oklahoma. Floyd was real (but not a nice man). Robin Hood, according to information available in his home town, probably is mostly fictional. Robin Hood was a common name for an outlaw, although there was a man named Robert (Robin) famously working the territory at the time the story supposedly took place.

Here's a real part of Nottingham that's pretty cool. This picture, with the handsome me in foreground, is of the Old Trip to Jerusalem Inn, which, if you'll look at the large picture you'll see is the oldest Inn in England. Founded in 1189. It's built into the side of the hill under the castle. The food was good. Best fish and chips I've ever had, in fact. Try it when you're in Nottingham.

Here's a view inside. They burn coal in the grate which you can see behind me in the photo. There are several rooms, including one upstairs which appears to have been a part of the place when it opened. I'm pretty sure, though, that the crusaders on their way out didn't dine on fish and chips and hard cider like I did.

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Sunday, December 30, 2007

 

A Day at the Races

At Towcester racecourse. That's pronounced either the same as "toaster" or as "cow-stir" with a 't' depending on exactly who you are talking to. The 'cester' part of the name means that this was once a Roman town. In fact it was then known as Lactodorum, and was, according to the Towcester Town Council, a "major staging post on the strategic road from London to Chester." The original name means, according to Wikipedia, "Dairyman's Fort", which sounds right so far as I know Latin. But, we didn't go to for a Latin lesson. We went for the racing.

Tami and I are big Dick Francis fans. (He said in the paper that he's still alive, by the way.) He writes stories that in one way or another involve jump racing, steeplechase and hurdles. It is impossible to see an actual horse race of any sort live in Southern Nevada, so we were glad to be able to go to an actual English race. Twelve pounds admission on Boxing Day and Easter, free otherwise. We paid the twelve pounds.



Here is one of the grandstands, of which there are two. Between the two the bookies set up for business. Not Vegas bookies in a cushy room in some Casino, but actual bookmakers plying their trade in the field next to the racecourse.


Here's a picture of one of them. I don't think she's named Gus. Must work for him I suppose. Anyway, these folks change the odds as they go along, and you won't necessarily get the same odds or minimum bet from any two of them. For the big Boxing day race there were about twenty of them present. Of course, you can bet in the Parimutual way too, inside at the Tote, which is a country-wide betting system. We lost on the Tote, but did well enough on the bookies (we were picking "places", or second and third place finishers, rather than winners) to be slightly ahead at the end of the day. Hey, I live in Vegas: slightly ahead is a great day at the track!

And I got a couple of really amazing photographs of races in progress. Witness the following:






That's not retouched. I was right there at the rail. What a fun day it was compared to the flat races I've been to in the past.

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London

We were in London the first night, as I said before. We, and by we I mean I, drove into the city, which was probably a stupid idea. Not only do they give you incredibly expensive parking tickets there, I was unused to driving from the right side of the car. Everyone assumes that driving to the left is a problem, but that's easy. Show me a lane and I'll drive in it. Heck, on the freeways I'm in the left lane a lot anyway. But sitting on the right side of the car makes it look like all of the oncoming traffic is about to run into you. Not pleasant when you're tired anyway. And then there's the roundabouts, but more about them later.




The photograph this time is of Harrods, the famous department store, as it was decorated this season for the holidays. It may be famous, but inside, it's a department store. That's not a bad thing, but frankly it ain't worth going to London to see. It was pretty on the outside though, and we had a good meal at a pub overlooking the high street in Kensington, at Knightsbridge. No word on where that bridge went or whether only knights got to use it.

Later in the trip we went back, by train. The trains go about 180 miles per hour, which is quite impressive. You can buy a ticket at Stevenage, and maybe other places, that lets you go to London and return, and ride the subway and busses all you want on that day. A fine deal for a tourist. Here is a picture from that trip to town, of some big old clock they seem pretty fond of. Big Ben, to be exact. The first time I was in London I never heard it chime as they were repairing it. This time I never heard it chime either. I have no idea why not. Nice clock tower, though, isn't it? We also took in the National Gallery, saw Westminster Abbey, and best of all from a tourist point of view, we visited the Tower of London. The place was started by William the First not long after 1066. Here are two pictures:









This is the White Tower, which is the one started by Bill the First. It was a home for kings for a long time, but by the time you may be familiar with, like Henry VIII, it was a good place to avoid as most who went in didn't come out alive. An amazing place to tour.

And finally here is a bit of the old city wall of Londinium. It was put up shortly after the Romans arrived, a couple of thousand years ago.










Next time: off to the races!

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Inga Lund

Just got back yesterday from a trip honoring a Swedish trapeze artist named Inga Lund. Don't believe me, then click here and you'll hear an excerpt from a song writtin in her honor. It took half a day to get there, and half a day to get back. I'm going to share bits about the trip in subsequent posts, and include a picture or two in each post I use as well. Here is the first photograph, taken in Kensington on the night we arrived. If you have good resolution, look inside the phone booth. You'll see that in some ways London and Las Vegas are very much alike.
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At about the time this photograph was taken we were getting a 120 pound ticket. A pound buys about what a dollar buys, but just now it's about $2.28 per pound to buy them, so that's one heck of a parking fine.

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Monday, December 17, 2007

 

Wanna See Some Dogs?

Maybe. While we're away I'm setting up a webcam in the livingroom so we can catch the dogs (and I guess cats) doing what they do best, which is sleep all the time. There is a link at the top of the humor page labelled "livingroom cam." Or, click here. If you do it when we're away, you can refresh every sixty seconds for a fresh view of whatever it is. If we're here, you'll just see whatever image was last when I shut the cam down. And they say I never provide entertainment . . .

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The Silly Season Returns

When I say silly season I mean politically. Granted, The Simpsons is pretty silly, but that's nothing. Just today I found out that Nevada is "ready for Hillary." Okay. I wasn't ready for that trash on my porch when I got home, but okay. But beyond that is the silliness of those making a religious contest out of the Republican nomination race. JFK had the right idea when he simply said that his religion had nothing to do with his qualifications, but some people insist on some sort of idealistic purity or something, so yesterday I saw old Mitt defending his faith and his various positions on Meet the Press. He's a fair dancer, but I did notice something that rubbed me the wrong way.
He said last week that "freedom requires religion", he really did. He agreed that he said it, but he said that he was basically paraphrasing John Adams who said that "Our Constututional Republic requires a moral footing to survive" or words to that effect. Mitt extrapolated that to mean religion, which is probably a great way to turn off any non-believers and athiests right off the bat. I'm not sure why people think they need some old guy in the sky to tell them how to behave, but they do. The trouble is that everyone seems to define "old guy in the sky" a bit differently, and then a few people write books of supposedly revealed words from the "old guy in the sky" which of course conflict in one way or another with other revealed words from the same source, and so we can and do argue endlessly about whose interpretation of "old guy text" is indeed the correct one. Just for grins, here is, once again, my take on why it's best to behave and treat each other nicely.
First, take lying. You can do it. Anybody who never does it is a fool. Remember that Dostoyevsky story called "The Idiot?" It's about a guy who never lies. But, even though you're going to do it some times, you must always know the truth. That means that, as Mark Twain noted, telling the truth is a lot simpler. If, in fact, you lie all the time you will sooner or later have no idea what is reality and what is just your own lies spinning back at you. I'm sure, looking at the history of, oh say the CIA, that such a thing does happen to real people all the time. That can't be good for them, and certainly isn't good for the rest of us.
Lying and other behaviors that upset people result in your being shunned more and more by more and more people. That is, you become much less and less likely to have any influence on how things go in the world. In fact, if you're bad enough we put you somewhere that you really can't control much of anything at all, which is after all the whole idea of a prison. Behaving yourself, even without the threat of prision, will let you have more of an influence over more of your fellow humans, and therefore make you more effective, and make you feel better.
That's a quick and dirty summary, but it also is an explanation of why one should behave that does not refer to any supernatural power, or any reward and punishment beyond what naturally flows from human interactions. Now, back to Mitt, he says, and I agree, that if people aren't acting reasonably well toward each other we can't have a civilized nation. Where we part is when the silly man says that only religion can provide good behavior. Sorry, Mitt, you lost me.
John Adams, by the way, was a Unitarian like me. Tom Jefferson, also by the way, hated and feared organized religion of any stripe. I don't really think that the founding fathers thought of religion as necessary to a free society. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why they separated it from government in the first amendment.
There's more silliness afoot. And for the record, I don't think that Mitt Romney's religion has a thing to do with his qualifications as President. I was just trying to illustrate the silliness of mentioning it in the first place. Well, I'm off to Jolly olde England, so until next year, toodle-oo.

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Ready for Christmas

Yes, I am. I bought Tami everything she said she wanted. I'm no fool. And I found her a birthday gift she's bound to love, too. Why she had to get born at Christmastime is beyond me, but there you go.
Obviously, I've been a bit busy with the shopping and all, but that's over. Next week, though, well this Friday to be exact, we're off to England, so my next post after todays' will be a report about things in that country. I remember it as a very manicured looking place, even out in the sticks. I'm anxious to see if I still think that. Tami wants fish and chips from a street vendor. Okay by me.
So anyway I'm sorry about not posting for three weeks, and I'll see you after Christmas some time.

Steve

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